


Prime

by celli



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Chromatic Character, F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2010-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my God, you weren’t lonely,” Jim blurted out. “Was it someone I know? Was it a species I know? Iron, copper, or silicon-based blood?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thestarsexist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsexist/gifts).



> Thanks to kageygirl for beta.
> 
> For Caro and kris - flowers wilt, but slash is forever. :)

The _Enterprise’s_ visits to the Seleya Colony tended to follow a pattern. Spock was almost immediately swept into a flurry of meetings with his father and the new Vulcan High Council. As far as Jim could tell, Sarek showed his love for his son by debating galactic politics with him. McCoy and one of his younger, most promising doctors, M’Benga, would continue something approaching an internship with the doctors there. McCoy was determined to learn every possible Vulcan malady that the universe might throw Spock’s way.

Jim had three options: stay up on the ship (boring), flirt with Vulcan girls (resultless), or talk to the other Spock--Ambassador Spock, they referred to him on Seleya, or occasionally Spock Prime.

“Which means that, technically, there’s a Kirk Prime, and I object on principle,” he said, tossing back the Vulcan version of tea with the savoir faire of a man who’d drunk liquid sunshine on a mission once.

“And what exactly is the principle, Captain?” Spock (Prime) asked.

“The principle that anyone suggesting I am less than prime myself is clearly not paying attention,” Jim said loftily.

Spock Prime was even easier to read than his younger version, Jim had always thought. There was a quirk to his mouth just now that spoke volumes about his amusement. “A grave misjudgment, indeed.”

Jim grinned at him and slouched as far back in his chair as its logical construction would allow him.

“How is Lieutenant Uhura?” Spock asked.

“Fantastic. Beautiful. Formidable,” Jim said, still grinning. “She and our Spock had one of those couple’s arguments--you know, all whispers and glares--about whether she would come down this time.”

“I can understand being cautious with the matter,” Spock said. “With so few Vulcans left, the political faction that disapproves of interbreeding with other species has more influence than it might otherwise.”

“I get the impression they weren’t shy about it before.”

That quirk of the mouth again. “Indeed.”

They exchanged a few more bits and pieces of small talk, and then Jim had to ask it, because _Commander_ Spock had refused to ask for the last three visits straight, and he had to know, damn it, “So you didn’t sleep with your Uhura, right?”

Wow, _that_ microexpression went by way too fast to read. Then Spock was just staring at him, all ahead full neutral.

Jim leaned forward. “Come on. You haven’t asked to see her once. You don’t look up when you hear her name. You haven’t even done a search on her in the Starfleet database! ...as far as I know.” He cleared his throat.

Spock’s expression flickered again. “Perhaps I simply do not wish to be reminded of a former relationship.”

Jim waited until Spock’s eyes met his, then raised an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of the Vulcan “bitch, please” look.

Spock raised both eyebrows back.

“No, seriously,” Jim said.

Spock looked away for a moment, out the window to the grayish desert of Seleya.

“I was...fond of Uhura,” he said finally. “She was a friend and a trusted colleague. But neither of us felt a romantic inclination toward the other.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Do you think so?” Spock asked.

“Well, I’ve seen the woman,” Jim said, and caught the smile-flicker again. “Plus, I don’t know. Being the only Vulcan on the ship. I bet that’s lonely enough, even before--" He waved a hand around. “--Everything.”

Spock’s face flickered again.

“Oh my God, you weren’t lonely,” Jim blurted out. “Was it someone I know? Was it a species I know? Iron, copper, or silicon-based blood?”

“Captain.”

“Definitely not Chekov, he’s too young even for a human,” Jim said. “Sulu? Nurse Chapel? Ooh, that was a flicker. Wrong kind, though. Admiral Pike? Number One, over on the _Yorktown_? Definitely not McCoy. I could see some mad chemistry, maybe, but he’d have killed you in your sleep.”

“ _Jim_.”

This time the flicker was clearly readable. Jim lurched back in his chair. “Oh. Oh, shit.”

Spock closed his eyes, and Jim remembered the utter emptiness and grief he’d felt through their mindmeld back on Delta Vega.

“I’m sorry,” he said as sincerely as he could. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It was a long time ago.” Spock opened his eyes. “Vulcans outlive most other peoples. It may be one of the reasons why we choose so rarely to marry outside our species.”

Jim heard his own voice, echoing in his head. _You haven’t asked to see her. You never look up when you hear her name._ “I feel like kind of an asshole now,” he said.

He got the smile quirk again, which completely stunned him. “A trait I find somewhat familiar. And perhaps...comforting.”

Whatever Jim might have said--not that he knew what that was--vanished as the door chimed, announcing the arrival of the rest of the _Enterprise_ crew.

“Ambassador,” the younger version of Spock said respectfully to the elder. “We must collect the Captain so we can change for the banquet tonight.”

“Of course, Commander,” Spock Prime said. He bowed his head in Jim’s direction. “Your company was most welcome, as always, Captain.”

“Uhura’s coming,” Jim said, directing his words somewhere in between where the two Spocks were standing.

“Captain--"

“That’s not a request, Commander,” Jim said. “Lieutenant Uhura will be attending the banquet tonight.”

Spock Prime spoke up. “I look forward to meeting the Lieutenant--in this iteration, I should say. I will inform my--I will inform Ambassador Sarek. I am certain he will approve as well.”

“The Council--" Commander Spock started, an edge in his tone--

“The Vulcan High Council can bite me,” Jim said. The nice thing about being human? You were allowed to get obviously angry and nobody had to pretend they weren’t noticing. “Everybody out. Spock, tell the transporter room we’re ready to beam up.”

“Sir,” Commander Spock said, all but standing at attention before he turned to stalk out. McCoy and M’Benga followed, shooting speaking looks at each other.

“He’ll get better at hiding being pissed, I’m sure,” Jim said.

“That was well done,” Spock Prime said.

“I hope so.” Jim looked Spock full in the face, then reached out and put a hand on his arm. “I _am_ sorry, Spock.”

Spock’s hand came up to cover Jim’s, his grip just shy of painful. “It was a long time ago,” he said again, but Jim counted the seconds--four, five, six--before his hand dropped away.

“I’ll see you at the banquet,” Jim said.

Spock nodded, and the smile that crossed his face this time was clearly recognizable. “I look forward to it.”


End file.
